A Handful of Cards
by Pfftlel
Summary: Discover the lives of Bilgewater's most revered and feared figures, from ghastly pirates to the unseen horrors. Follow the adventure of a lifetime in this gripping and engaging story.
Down from the great Bilgewater Bridge, far from the clutch of democracy, lied a humble city that lied on stilts. The stilts dug deep into the sand below, reinforced with the strongest materials the inhabitants could muster, embedded into the dark musty sea which none would delve in to. They were tied together by ropes, and now supported the weight of card swindlers and cut-throats alike. The main feature of this unfortunate estate was a long, wide walkway where those unlucky enough to end up here as either slaves or visitors could gaze through open walkways into the dimly lit taverns that flocked the city. Cheers could be heard from within, accompanied by the occasional drunken shanty of those trying to forget their worries. Every once in a while, a gunshot would echo down throughout the walkway, deserving of the silence that followed, only to be hidden once again from the festivities that they would all indulge in.

In one such tavern, mariners and innkeepers alike gathered to one such table, a table that seemed elevated by the man of the hour's presence. He wore brown boots, that made his toes seem to point to the sky, like an jester giggling with glee. They reached up to his shins before climbing back down, perhaps fearful of the man's black trousers that were tucked in by his boots. Up above, a mixture of orange and brown caressed his thin figure, before a white unbuttoned shirt hung around his torso elegantly. For a seemingly simple man, his huge pauldrons seemed out of place, yet they were lined with a shining gold that made them seem worth it. Resting on his fair head, a curved hat with his signature ace popping out, almost mocking his opponent. Cards on his mind. Finally, he adorned himself with a fashionable cape of linen black, quality that was unmatched by anything that anyone had ever seen, also lined with a golden frame. Those that watched and adorned the man would often see its red inside as they followed him from table to table.

'We can see that you're just bluffin', pardner. Right now, you're just wastin' my time.'

The crowd around the man cheered and whooped at his statement, eagerly waiting for the opponent's hand to crumble out across the wooden table. Finally, the man cracked, showing his entire hand to him. The cheering roared louder and louder, and could be heard from the walkway, accompanied by a mad beating on hands, growing tension before releasing it into one big applause. Men and women reached out to pat him on the back, hoping to gain his favour in whatever pathetic attempts they could. In reality, many tried to mug him, often seeing him as no more than a bloater and a swindler. Oh, how wrong they were. This is not your average card shark, friends. This was Twisted Fate, the infamous rogue that travelled across Valoran claiming loot for his simple magic act: An all-or-nothing card match between his unsuspecting victim. He had robbed from the richest, and bribed from justice to trek his way along every shore, plaza and pathway of every city.

Despite magic being prohibited in every one of his playing fields, no questions were ever raised about his custom card set. They shone with the vibrant colours of the riches he had accumulated over his years. Some even described them as mesmerizing, yet none dare to take a closer look. The iconic trifecta of blue, red and yellow became symbolic of the card man's actions. Now, with security getting ever and ever more impeccable, he mainly resided in Bilgewater, still able to make a quick buck from those that had not heard of his lawless acts. Of course, those that knew about him would never agree to challenge him, leading most to hang on to his coattails in the hope that they would get a split of the goods. They never did. He handsomely accepted their varied gifts, yet seemed to ignore the petty criminals when it came to using his wealth. After all, who would want to share with people that he knew? All they wanted him for was his dosh, and he knew this and stayed vigilant.

While setting up his next performance, a group of unfamiliar hands groped at his shoulders from behind. He was used to the convicts egging him on as he played, yet these paws beared an unsettling clutch that made him recoil in uncomfortableness. The crowd around him grew silent, and carefully paved the way for two bulky bodyguards to edge their way towards him. As he was lifted from his chair, he was swung around to admire the grizzled face of a restless glare. This man was a common mob boss for this small city, often delighting himself with the small wealth the commoners had, or offering a gruesome beating to those that refused. His oddly regal attire gave him the confidence to approach Tobias, who seemed quite confident himself. Or, as confident as any man held up in the air by great hands could be.

'So, the infamous swindler himself, popping a visit into MY city? Ha! I don't think so, pal. Out in these parts, if you ain't aware, we've got a chain of command here, and I just happen to be sitting right at the top. That money I see, filling your pockets, how abouts givin' thems to me?' The man cackled, his crony avatars unmoved by their bosses' wit and demeanour.

Tobias kept still, out of reach to grab his cards and set this place alight. Out of all the places he had been, was he really going to end up dead here? Reluctantly, he reached for his pockets, but as he did, a blistering sound ringed in the ears of everyone witnessing, lurching them forwards towards the exit like ragdolls. Nobody knew what was happening, nor what had just happened. Tobias, upon finding his senses again, gazed across to the bodyguard that claimed him, now lying dead with a smouldering face, expressionless as ever. He gazed across the tavern to see it engulfed in the flames. After finally being able to step up from all the corpses burning around him, he dived towards the table where his cards lied, only to be gripped at the ankle by the hand of the mobster that confronted him. With swiftness, he flung his arm towards the grizzled face and smacked him across the chin with his arm. The mobster fell to his side before he could grab his pocket knife, ensuring his death by lying in the burning building. After, he felt limp as he still lingered towards the table to collect his cards. Before he knew it, another shell of explosion engulfed the area as everything faded into white. The tavern stumbled downwards, the stilts giving way to the insane amount of pressure, quickly falling into the dark ocean below.

The next morning, a salvage team was sent to recover the remains of the sinner's bar. Most of the assumed people were collected as ash, not to be given to their bereaved families, but to be used in further warfare. While they found hundreds of crusted, burnt bodies, they also stumbled upon an artefact that was immediately sent to the richest dweller among Bilgewater. They picked up Twisted Fate's iconic hat, complete with his signature ace card.


End file.
